


Tibbs: The Finale!

by Daryl_Alenko



Series: Tibbs [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Gibbs, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mention of past relationships, Now With Added Mild Smut (Cause I'm not that good at smut!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: The conclusion to my Tibbs story! One step forward, two steps back. While trying to navigate the delicate situation of a changing relationship, DiNozzo and Gibbs are faced with decisions.





	1. Where

Where do we go from here? The entire ride from NCIS to Gibbs' place, they were silently wrestling with the exact same question; where do we go from here? It is the single most important question of their lives at current, and there are a myriad of answers to choose from. And in this thing, that is personal rather than work-related, they have no way of knowing the others mind. No amount of covert glances between them, no amount of scrutinized changes in facial expression gives either of them a hint. About anything.

Is Jethro still in Gibbs mode, is that why his features are nearly blank? Is DiNozzo still suffering the pain of compromised lungs, is that why he's mostly staring blankly out the window? They have come to understand so much about each other these past years, but in this moment, they are like strangers. 

Gibbs manages to sneak a peek at his SFA under the guise of glancing out the window to change lanes. He feels the smile spreading across his face before he can even engage the turn signal .. because Tony's temple is resting gently against the window, breath fogging across it every few seconds. Despite everything that has happened, he's fast asleep. Gibbs allows himself this moment to smile unabashedly. To revel in the warm, tingly feeling that slowly unfurls through him as he basks in the sweet serenity of driving home with his ... his partner, his best friend ... his Tony, in the car beside him.

The revelation that follows is so profound and so sudden, that he actually dials back on the gas, afraid that his usual recklessness might be too much. With his mind so fully and wholly occupied out of nowhere, he doesn't want to risk losing control of the car. 

So, he eases the vehicle into a steady, coasting speed, his hands clenching and unclenching on the wheel as he struggles through his thoughts. Though, struggle wouldn't be the word -he- would use to describe it. He is simply .. processing. Working through the surprise that he wants his home .. to be Tony's. The ball of warmth in the pit of his stomach expands, pours through him deliciously, and he cannot stop grinning. They are not on the way toward his home .. they are simply ... -going home-, and he cannot fathom a time in the past year when he didn't think that. 

Every time he and Tony left the office together, they were going home. Every time he looked up the basement stairs and saw him walking down .. it was Tony -coming home-. He exhales sharply, his gaze cutting across to the younger man when Tony gives a soft snort in his sleep. Aw hell, he even finds -that- warmth-inspiring! When the hell did Tony DiNozzo snorting in his sleep become -cute-!? When the hell did he start to consider -anything- cute!?! 

Okay ... so maybe the struggle is real. Another soft, sleepy snort and he honestly thinks he's going to split his face wide open when he grins again. Okay, so maybe there's a mote of panic along with that struggle ... if one could consider an entire ocean a mote. Because that is how he's feeling at the moment. Despite the warmth, the smiles and the happiness, he's beginning to panic, too. Beginning to think it's time to drop Tony back at his apartment and dive headlong into the basement. 

"... if you think any harder, you're going to give me a migraine, Jethro." Tony's voice has been rendered smooth and husky with exhaustion and the remnants of his sleep. Gibbs' hands tighten on the wheel again. "Drop me home." It's an out. Tony may as well have painted a bright, neon sign saying STOP PANICKING, GIBBS, WE CAN PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED, above his head. Not that anything has technically happened. Has it?

".. I am, Tone." Gibbs murmurs gently, another smile curving his lips. Softening his gruff demeanor. When he sees Tony's head turn, pressing closer to the door and window, his heart tries to sink in the vicinity of his stomach, but he won't let it. He is not a man prone to self doubt, and he'll be damned if he starts that now! He pries a white knuckled hand from the wheel and reaches out. Awkwardly wraps his hand around the younger man's in what he hopes is a sweet gesture. 

Though, maybe not, because the action causes Tony to instantly sit up straight. Causes him to stiffen. The moment he tries to pull away, however, Tony's hand shifts. Moves. Long fingers slip around to wrap into his and the fit is so perfect that he just doesn't know how to react. So, he squeezes. Just a little bit of pressure to show that he's not going anywhere, and he would swear he -feels- Tony relax. Feels him breathe easier, loosen up. In fact, the younger man flashes a tired DiNozzo smile and then turns to let his temple rest on the window once again.

* * *

Drop me home ... by the time Gibbs drives up in front of the house, the last vestments of panic have fallen away and he feels nothing but contentment and surety. He is cloaked in the knowledge that this can be their home. They have a life together; personal and work have interwoven to create a tapestry of domesticity that he has come to cherish .. if not quietly rely on. That foundation could become the cornerstone of a full life together and the thought of such almost makes him giddy. Not that you could tell to look at him. 

As he turns the car off, he has reverted to his usual state of stoicism. A glance to his side, and he is amused to find that Tony is curled against the door, asleep again. He takes a moment to just study him. The rise and fall of his chest, which is still slightly off rhythm, though it doesn't worry him as badly as it had earlier in the day. The soft, smooth quality to his handsome features. 

The only time Gibbs would -ever- be able to describe Anthony DiNozzi Junior as -innocent- is when he's asleep. He actually looks angelic and at peace. The lines of worry and fear created by working for a Federal Agency, by being nearly blown up, shot, stabbed, and exposed to Y Pestis, are wiped clean. The playboy persona and the endless chatter without substance are non-existent, and Gibbs feels his heart swell and ache. In a good way. The -best- way.

Quietly, he levers himself out of the car. Slinks around to the passenger side, chuckling despite himself when he manages to get the door open and has to lunge to keep DiNozzo from accidentally kissing the ground. 

"Co'm'on, Tony, gotta gimme a little help, here." He chastises, though the tone is belittled by the half-smirk he wears. If he didn't know better, he'd think that smirk was trying to give the permanent heave-ho to his sour disposition. 

"M'try'n Je't'ro." Tony grumbles and grouses through a tired yawn as he takes Gibbs' hand and pulls himself from the vehicle. He immediately finds the two bags grabbed from his hand, and a warm, comfortably heavy arm wrapping around his waist to guide him away from the vehicle. "Wha??" The confused exhale makes Gibbs' smirk widen exponentially. Even without Tony verbalizing the full question, Gibbs knows exactly what he's asking. And he feels shy! Him. The second b is for BASTARD suddenly feels shy and youthful and awkward and -wonderful-! Because if there is one thing he remembers about all of this .. whatever this -is- ... it's not supposed to be easy. Not really. It's -supposed- to be awkward sweetness, butterflies in your stomach ... teenager-like emotions raging through you. All of that horribly great stuff. And with Tony, it is. Partially because they have known each other for so long and partially because they already mean so much to one another. There is a universe of emotion and experience between them, and it could all go ass up at any given moment.

He is afraid to lose the situation that exists between them. Terrified that if whatever this is doesn't work out, it will be the end of them in any way, shape, form, or fashion.

"... you said home, Tone. So .. here we are ..." He nearly scuffs a foot across the ground, hating himself for refusing to meet Tony's gaze as they stand huddled in the front yard. Is he a coward? In not looking at his friend, trying to stave off the possibility of seeing some sort of rejection, is he flaking out? Showing cowardice??

"Really? That's what you're going with?" Tony's words are so soft, that Gibbs cannot discern anything from his tone, inflection, etc. As it has been proven time and time again ... he -really- doesn't like not knowing. So, he is bracing. Telling himself that he is hoping for the best, but sadly, is expecting the worst. After all, three divorces have pretty much left him with little room for debate; he is -not- cut out for this relationship stuff. "God, I can't even believe I'm gonna say it this way, but ... how the -fuck- are there -3- Ex - Mrs. Gibbs, with smooth moves like that, Jethro!?" The Silver Fox's mouth drops open in complete disbelief. The action is minute, would seem like nothing more than him opening his mouth a fraction. Just enough to take in a breath or prepare to speak. However, Tony knows Gibbs. Almost inside and out, by now, even if he still struggles to read him on some occasions. And that mouth drop may as well have been the equivalent of a loudly broadcasted WHAT THE FUCK. 

"I ... the hell, Tony? I mean ... what!?" Poor Gibbs. His words are a spluttering staccato. Confusion, disbelief, unease, and surprised awe. A cornucopia of old and new emotions colliding into a rather cute picture of a stunned Gibbs. Wow, cute and Gibbs really shouldn't go together, but to Tony, in that moment, they do. He's smirking at the man he has called boss for so many years now. Smirking and drinking in the myriad of emotions on the handsome face he has long since memorized. No, really. He has Gibbs' completely memorized. Like, he could describe him to a -T- to a sketch artist, if not just agonize over doing a drawing himself. 

"Leroy ... Jethro .. Gibbs ..." Tony draws out each one of the older man's names, emphasizing them in that husky voice of his, making sure that he has his full, undivided attention. And when he sees the oh so subtle, yet deep seated shiver that skates down Gibbs' spine, he knows he succeeded. "Running the risk of sounding really girly or something .. that's about the greatest, most romantic, most sentimental thing I have ever -heard- ... let alone had someone say to me." And now it's Tony's turn to lapse into shyness. The man that could talk the ear off a deaf person .. that could probably seduce a teacozy, is suddenly shy. He tenses a little in Gibbs' hold, his eyes downcast so heavily that they are nearly closed. As if that will somehow save him from any recrimination the sappy words might net him. 

Beyond the possibility of rejection for his sentiment, Tony had no actual expectation for a reaction from the older man. He had not considered that Gibbs might embrace his words, question him about them, or anything else of that nature. He is too tired and self conscious to think the words would be rewarded with positive action or sweet, verbal sentiment in return. So, imagine his shock when he feels a calloused, deft hand fold along the curve of his clenched jaw, lifting his head ... until hazel green gems are locked with limpid pools of ice blue. Never has he actually felt as if he were falling by way of a simple look. 

Gibbs tightens his hand, fingers brushing the shell of Tony's ear, coaxing a gasp of shocked pleasure from the younger man. The edge of his rough thumb traces the silken expanse of his bottom lip and this time, Tony shudders. A deep, delicious tremble that coils heat in the pit of his stomach before he can even attempt to understand his reaction. When pressure is applied to his jaw, guiding him to tilt his head, he can nearly taste the intensity of his anticipation. He has, on a few occasions, contemplated what kissing Gibbs would be like. 

A struggle for dominance that the older man would inevitably win? A gentle, sweet give and take of lips? Or maybe a sensual dance of hot, wet, lusting tongues?! 

A jolt of desire causes his blood pressure to spike. He can feel it rushing beneath his skin. And that coil of heat? It begins to stretch. Unfurling through out his body until he is nearly full and aching. Though he is trying to stave off this reaction. His body is too easily willing, undiscerning when beauty and attraction are presented to him. He will be damned if he allows this moment to become bogged down in fantasies of rutting, naked bodies thrusting in the throes of passion. But then thought becomes moot. Intention flies out the window. Because Gibbs is leaning in. His ice blues have fluttered closed and Tony is daydreaming about the texture of the mouth that has issued orders, insults, jokes and compliments. 

Closer and closer, a breath is the only thing between them ... and then the shrill ring of a mobile splits the otherwise silent, still night. Gibbs jerks back, his eyes flying open in surprise. And annoyance. SO much annoyance! Tony, on the other hand, looks as if the sound has flash frozen him in place. His head is still at that precarious tilt, his lips pursed and yet pliable. His eyes are heavy, lidded with lust and anticipation. Okay, upgraded that from annoyed to pissed off. 

The phone continues to chirp, demanding attention and Gibbs nearly snaps. He reaches out lightening fast. One hand grabs Tony's pants at the hip, yanking the younger man closer. In the next second, his hand is slipping past the fold of Tony's pocket, yanking his cell phone out and staring down at it. McGee. Oh, as if the agent wasn't already on Gibbs' shit list!

"WHAT?" Gibbs growls the question murderously into the phone, McGee spluttering in confusion on the other end.

"Oh! Crap, uhm, sorry Bossy. I hope I didn't .. wake you? Or .. interrupt your basement time. I, uhm, I was trying to, uh, call Tony. Must've dialed you on accident. I'm so sorry, Boss." Gibbs' hand tightens on the phone for a moment.

"You got the right phone, McGee. What do you want??" Tony blinks, finally seeming to thaw and realize that the kiss isn't going to happen, after all. He kinda wants to yank the phone out of Gibbs' hand and verbally berate the man on the other end of the phone. Go through the entire list of curse words he's collected over the years, cathartic release for the frustration he now feels. However, he knows that Gibbs' anger will make a far better impression than his own.

"Wait .. what? Why are you .. Tony's phone ... knew it ... was just going to call and see if Tony wanted to get a drink, Boss, but he, uh ... he obviously has other plans. Maybe --" Gibbs ends the call with a grunt, staring down at the phone as if it will somehow magic up an answer for him. On how to get back the moment that was just stolen. He turns and slips the phone back into Tony's pocket, the two men suddenly awkward and shy again. 

"Sorry about that, Jethro." Tony's apology is slightly acerbic, but the older man takes no offense to it. He knows that his friend is upset at the interruption, same as he is. 

"Not your fault, Tony. Come on." He turns, putting a bit of distance between the two of them as he heads into the house. Following the strange, comfortable routine they have established over the past year, he drops the bags in their usual spot, though that's where the routine ends. He doesn't head to the kitchen to start coffee, he moves to drop into the chair by the couch. Tony doesn't end up stretched out face-first on the couch. He settles on the end of it, leaning back.

"Hang on!" Tony's voice rips open the silence that surrounds them, Gibbs actually jerking in surprise where he sits. He turns his wary gaze on the younger man, a single brow burst upward in annoyed question as he waits. Tony wiggles a little on the couch, his own eyes saucer-wide. He had just been thunderstruck with his own epiphany. Or, rather, what Gibbs may have been applying earlier, has finally set in. "Were you .. d-did .. did you just .. say you want me to -live- here, Jethro? Like, consider this my home??"

The kiss .. the -aborted- kiss .. has shaken him up far more than he really wants to admit. Because Gibbs can -feel- himself sinking. Fading away. Carefully pushing his stoic nature to the front and taking refuge behind it. He reaches up, both hands scrubbing down, across his face. Trying to scrape away the emotions he can feel clogging his every pore. This is why his relationships fail. There's always too much going on. Strong emotions are his kryptonite.

"We aren't discussing this right now, DiNozzo." He's too busy avoiding the other man's gaze, so he misses the utterly gutted look that softens Tony's features. The pain etched into every line, looking as if he has been physically slapped. And it hurts worse than even the harshest Gibbs-slap ever could.

"Right, Boss. Course not, Boss." He grits the words out between clenched teeth, launching himself off the couch, a missile with a very specific destination. He grabs his bag and heads up the stairs without another word. He's run from the room moments before Gibbs realizes that this was a second B moment. He curses under his breath, fighting up, out of his seat. He knows what he should do. March up the stairs and apologize, screw rule #6. 

Expectation and reality, however, are usually far different things. Because in reality, he doesn't do what he -should-. Doesn't go and make things better with Tony. He quietly turns away from the stairs and instead, slips silently down the stairs. Basement .. boat ... bourbon. Time to retreat to what he knows.

* * *


	2. Do We Go

Mid morning is now, officially, the bane of his existence. Slowly, Gibbs' eyes creak open. He can almost imagine hearing rusty hinges and blames such on Tony. 

... TONY!! He groans as he forces himself up, off the painful leaning position against his work table. It takes only a few moments to catalog his situation. Scratchy voice, stale bourbon on the tongue. Fingers stiff and aching from gripping one tool or another. But more importantly, he remembers Tony. Remembers the man angrily storming up the stairs, bag in hand .. after he had so sensationally shoved his foot in his mouth. 

With aching pops, he straightens his back. Unfurls himself from the painful position, his eyes snapping closed to try and protect against the burning sensation of light. Not a hangover per se, but he still feels shitty in the light of day. And he knows he deserves it. Tenfold.

He groans once he has gained his feet, turning to look tiredly around the basement. He doesn't want to think of the circumstances that lead him down here. A place he has had little reason to return to for the past year. Always some reason to stay away. Too tired from work .. too engrossed in something .. or, the most likely reason, Tony. Tony was at the center of so much, it seemed. They were usually busy; eating, discussing work, watching some new monstrosity Tony has been wanting to see forever, or simply doing as they had the night before; curled up drinking coffee on the couch, silent but comfortable.

Ah, hell, they really are just like a married couple! He groans angrily, scrubbing his palm down his face, wincing as his hand catches on stubble. It's only after he has managed to take in a deep breath to calm and steady himself, that he realizes he can smell coffee all the way down here. Which means it's strong and the door is likely open. 

He's grinning before he reaches the stairs, heading up toward the heavenly scent. Already anticipating the sight that awaits him. A smiling Tony, coffee just the way he likes it.

"Smells good, Tony!" He calls as he hits the top of the stairs, grinning happily as he heads through toward the kitchen. The coffeepot is full, his mug set upside down next to it. He turns it over and fills it with the aromatic brew, sighing once he manages his first scalding, comforting swig. It burns all the way down, hitting his iron stomach and warming him from the inside out. "Hey, Tony." He calls out, realizing that the younger man had never called back. He rolls his eyes even though he's grinning. 

Leave it to DiNozzo to make coffee and then head back to bed. Wouldn't be the first time, after all. He takes another swig before he sets the mug down and exits the kitchen. Destination, Tony's room. Wow, he can't even begin to think of when it changed from the guest room to Tony's, but he doesn't care. Today, he feels light and happy. A state of being he contributes to his friend.

"Come on, Tony .." He glances down at his watch, 10:03. Later than he thought it would be. He raises a hand, first knuckle rapping loudly against the centre of the door. "Rise and shine, al...read...y.." He opens the door, rolling his eyes, and stops in his tracks. Oh, well, that makes sense, then. Tony hadn't answered because he's not there. Gibbs swallows down a sudden wave of .. something ... it's too damn early to try and deal with emotions and feelings right now. 

He hesitates .. lurking in the doorway to study the room. The bed hadn't been slept in. Tony never remakes it as neat and tidy as it is. So, had the younger man stayed the night, or had he called a cab and left as soon as the basement door closed?? Gibbs knows which he would prefer it to be; neither. But, as that doesn't seem an option, he hopes Tony at least stayed the night.

Because he can't envision the man staying the night in his apartment. Tony deserves a home, not .. a -place-. And therein lay the crux, hmm? He had had the perfect opportunity to give Tony just that, and had allowed himself to be a coward about it. Had taken the easy way out rather than admit the truth.

"I'm sorry, Tony." He apologizes to the stale air of the room, quietly closing the door and turning to head back downstairs. Where there's plenty of coffee, but no DiNozzo. He picks the mug back up, staring moodily into the depths before glancing at the coffee maker. Tony had bought him one of the newer versions, the kind you can program to make it ahead, and he hates the thing in that moment. Because it gives him no clue how long Tony may have stayed.

"Stupid damn machine." He slugs down the last of the cup, before pouring a second. He knows what he should be doing. But it's not what he does. Silently, he returns to the basement.

* * *

Tony rolls over in his bed, glaring angrily at the ceiling, as if the poor structure is somehow behind his inability to get any real sleep. No, of course it's not. It's everything's fault. The bed is too small, with expensive sheets, not cozy enough, etc. The room is too big, too much open space, not homey enough. 

He rolls onto his side, staring absently at the wall as he tries to silence his thoughts. Because if he doesn't concentrate on keeping everything quiet, he's going to lose his mind with the endless doubt. How much have things changed? Is it too late to go back to the way things had been? Could they recover from this and still be friends? Would he be allowed back to Gibbs' place?

"Damn it!" He rears up, reaching down to punch his pillow into submission for no other reason than because it's better than doing what he really wants to; get in his car, speed over to Gibbs' and Gibbs-slap the eejit for being an emotionally constipated -fool-! Probably screaming obscenities the entire time.

He bursts out in laughter, out of the blue, but how could he not? He's picturing himself and Gibbs in a childish slap-match, screaming and hollering at each other like two oversized toddlers fighting over a teddy bear. But once again, the laughter dies. Far sooner than last time. He has but a moment's reprieve of joviality before he is settled on his back. Frowning upward. Wrestling with his emotions. 

Definitely too early for this.

He throws the covers off, forcing himself to a sitting position, fighting a wave of dizziness. Lack of food the day before, lack of sleep this past night, lungs still kind of achy though no coughing .. he feels run down. Hell, he feels like death warmed over. 

"This ain't good for your health, DiNozzo." He mutters in his best Gibbs voice. Then promptly shudders at how close it is. He pushes up, out of the bed, padding silently into the living room and looking around. It is beautiful ... always has been. If he had inherited nothing else from Senior, taste would definitely be it. 

He glances at the piano ... at the ornate box he places his gun into every time he comes home. They are nice things .. pretty things, but .. not -homey- things. He is instantly, irrationally -angry- at every thing in this place and he doesn't even know how to -begin- remedying the feeling. 

"... maybe it's time." He whispers those words hoarsely. Afraid to speak them too loud, else he not be able to take them back. Stupid, irrational, and superstitious, but oh well! He can't help it. He's in -that- type of mood right now. He turns and heads toward the kitchen, frowning as he bypasses the fridge despite the growl in his stomach. He's hungry after having so little yesterday, but he never was one to keep food in the house. That's truer now that he's been spending so little time here.

He looks through the cupboards until he finds a bag of coffee. A dark, bold roast. The kind of rotgut tar Gibbs likes, and he stumbles to the coffeemaker. Within a few minutes, he has a fresh cup in front of him. He looks toward the powder creamer, toward the sugar, but in the end, he sticks with it straight black. Not that he could explain why. He just .. needs it at the moment.

With a full cup of coffee gulped down, a hot shower, and then a second cup of coffee out of he way, he decides it's time to start the day. Not that he has the first -clue- what he should do. No work, no plans because he hasn't had to make plans in almost a year! This is going to be a long week.

* * *

He has decided that the basement is a Void. Some kind of time-eating phenomenon that he was always too single-minded to notice before. Because he glances down at his watch, and then has to do a double take. Because according to his watch, it's 3:30 pm. He has been down here for several hours with nothing but his woodwork and his thoughts. No matter how hard he struggled to make his mind shut the fuck up and let him concentrate, he failed. His mind stayed focused on his absentee friend, and what the future will hold. He could never say that he's not the type to dwell, because it would be a lie. True, there are a -lot- of things he managed to push to the side. -MANY- things he managed to let go of almost immediately, but -never- the really important things. Like his girls. His job. His family/team. 

Tony is -important-. No matter what may or may not happen between them, Tony will always be important. He will always care for the younger man, that ain't gonna change. He could walk into work in one week and find out that Tony has resigned and moved to Italy to try and become a movie star, and he'd still care. Hell, who is he kidding? He'd track him down and get the chance to say goodbye, if nothing else. 

He stretches carefully, takes one last look at his watch, and feels his stomach give an almighty gurgle of agitation. Oops. No breakfast, he'd worked all the way through lunch and hadn't even had another cup of the coffee that had been waiting for him when he woke up.

So, he ditches the basement, carrying himself upstairs two at a time, despite the protest of his aching, worn out body. Knees grate, back twinges, even his shoulders try to pull, but he ignores it. Same as he always does. Okay, so maybe he has a bit of a problem with hoping that the ignoring of certain things will make them go away. Not many, but some.

Once into the kitchen he stops abruptly, even backpedals. Because there, on the kitchen table, two take out containers. He glances at the counter, and finds the coffee emptied, the maker cleaned. He swallows heavily, the sudden appearance of a lump in his throat throwing him for one hell of a loop. The only thing that finally makes him move forward, rather than turn around and head back into the basement, is the irritated, insistent gurgling of his damn stomach. 

"Damn traitor." He hisses at the grumbling beast, reluctantly crossing to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer before walking to the table and plopping resolutely into the chair. There could only be one person that would not only be -capable- of walking in without him realizing, but caring enough to do so; Tony. A truth that is confirmed when he pulls the first round container close and removes the lid, the pleasant scent of chili makes his mouth water. So definitely Tony, then.

He grabs the second container and opens it, eyes narrowing to a squint when he realizes that Tony has written a note in big red marker on the inside of it. 

'I -REALLY- hate your damn basement right now, Jethro. You aren't so high on my list, either. Don't forget to eat again, or I'm Gibbs-slapping you first chance I get. Enjoy.'

He sits there staring at the stark white Styrofoam, rereading the message rather than paying attention to the still warm hotwater cornbread. He has to have read the note a dozen times before he is able to rouse himself out of his stupor.

"Huh." He grabs a piece of the warm, crumbly cornbread, actually laughing when he realizes that it has already been buttered. He carefully breaks it into the chili, dunking the spoon into it to stir it in. While he lets it soak in the chili, he leans back in his seat. "Not boyfriend, so much, then." He mutters, finding it hard to even say the word boyfriend. When it had been a joke he told himself, it was easy. But now, when there might be some sliver of truth? The word is clunky and uneven on his tongue. "Damn it. Husband." He exhales the word and may as well have emptied every last breath from his tired body as he deflates in his chair.

Before he can begin eating, he stands and heads toward the living room, finding his mobile on the coffee table.

'You all hate the basement eventually.' He surprises himself when he manages to send the text off, even more surprised that he even bothered with it, but Tony does that to him. As much as he cares for the man, he knows how to push his every button as well. How to piss him off, how to sooth him, how to make him laugh. And definitely, -DEFINITELY- how to make him worry.

He carries the phone into the kitchen, sitting down to begin eating. He's not that surprised when the answering text arrives within only minutes.

' TELL me you did NOT just compare me to your ex WIVES, Leroy Jethro Gibbs!! Fine. Two Gibbs-Slaps and a -bitch- slap for that bullshit, BOSS.' 

Shit! He's -not- supposed to be making this worse! He stares down at his mobile, moodily chewing his food, though he can't even taste it at this point. Too frustrated and dumbfounded.

'Damn it, Tony!' He stares at the text and erases it, growling as he shoves the container across the table and leans back heavily in the chair. ' -I- didn't make the comparison to a woman in -that- way!' No, no it never helps pointing out that the other person is wrong or has misunderstood, doesn't matter -what- gender you're talking to.

He reaches up out of nowhere and Gibbs-slaps himself for his idiocy, sighing.

'I don't know what I'm doing here, Tone. I don't know how to make this shit better, I just know that I -want- to. That count for anything?' It feels like it has taken forever and a day to write and send the text. His hate for technology will probably never end. He hoists himself from the seat, throwing everything away before he heads out of the kitchen. First instinct .. basement. Second instinct? Yeah, he follows that one. 

Quietly, he climbs the stairs. His mobile clasped tightly in one hand. His other fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He comes to a stop in front of Tony's room, and after a moment of inner debate .. or maybe just a lot of cursing himself for being an emotional coward, he shoves the door open and heads for the bed.

In a way that mimics Tony a bit too well, he finds himself falling face first onto the bed, curling into it as if it will somehow be able to physically comfort him. Again, time seems to suspend itself, leaving him floundering. Unsure how long he waits there, with bated breath, for the annoying, life-saving DING that finally comes.

'Rule 28, Jethro.' He doesn't snarl. Doesn't growl. No sound leaves him. He simply hurls the phone over his shoulder, waiting for the satisfying crunch of the contraption as it hits the wall. Never comes, though. 

"Really, Jethro? I give you a way to make it better and you try to destroy your phone? It's getting -really- hard to replace this stupid model!" The sound of Tony's exasperation causes him to jerk and roll, going right over the side of the bed, landing hard on his ass. 

"Damn it, Tony! Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack!?" He snarls the words viciously, climbing back to his feet unsteadily. The moment Tony sees that, he's moving forward. Ever the loyal St. Bernard.

"There's that sexy Marine Mouth. Honestly, you should use it more often." He reaches out to grab the older man by the shoulders, steadying him. The moment he's sure that he's actually okay, he reaches back and Gibbs-Slaps him hard enough that he nearly drives Gibbs right into him. Once they are both steady once more, he reaches back and smacks him again. Infinitely softer this time, but it does little to lessen the shock emanating from Gibbs.

"Did you really just ... !?"

"Told you, Boss, Two Gibbs-Slaps. I'll save the bitch slap until you don't look like a feather'll knock you on your ass." He lets go and moves to stretch out on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He tosses the caught mobile beside him, Gibbs hesitating for a moment before grabbing it. "Rule 28, Jethro." Tony reiterates, his usually expressive features a hardened mask. The only thing that shows through is a quickly waning bit of patience.

"I ..." Gibbs falters. He's floundering, desperately reaching for something, -anything- he can say that will stall this. "I .." Still, nothing will come. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Tony's up, off the bed, snarling like a rabid animal and heading straight for the door. Or, well, Gibbs assumes it's the door, until he feels the impact of a pissed off body barreling him down, into the bed. This time, Tony ends up on top. He's settled on Gibbs' lap, bearing down on him. Growling as he glares. "You -will- shut up, stop giving me the beady eye, and LISTEN to what I have to say. Do I make myself clear?" He snaps the words out with a shockingly effective Command voice, and though he's still staring angrily up, Gibbs gives a single nod of his head.

"About damn time, you annoying pain in the ass! First thing is first; you -will- deal with me, Leroy." The use of his first name is the verbal equivalent of a punch to the gut and for almost a full minute, Gibbs feels physically sick to his stomach. He can feel acid burning and churning and he wants to hate Tony for cornering him like this. For trying to force a confrontation he isn't ready for, but he can't. Cause he admires him. A lot.

"Secondly! You will -never- compare me with one of your ex-wives again, Leroy. Because I'm not like -any- of them .. the, erm, obvious reasons aside. I've seen the kind of women you ended up with, and I am a -lot- of things, but I am -not- a nagging, harpy bitch trying to change you. I've known you for -years-, and even I'm not stupid enough to think you'd change for anyone. Not to mention, I'm not asking you to propose to me, you moron!" He seethes, his breath heaving as he glowers down at the older man.

"I -know- you're not a woman, Tony! And besides, the ex-wives had nothing on you. I don't think even -I'm- as stubborn as you are!" He scowls, pushing upward to try and dislodge the younger man. Tony shifts quickly, wrapping his thighs around Gibbs', so that a knee is pressed to either hip. They both still immediately as the spark of friction causes them to make rather undignified moans. Soft, barely audible, but still there.

"And do you know -why- I'm so stubborn!? Cause I'm straddling the reason right now!" To emphasize his point, he deliberately, slowly grinds his hips against the older man's. The sound that erupts from Gibbs is almost savage, animalistic. He pushes upward, forgetting for a single moment that they are supposed to be -fighting- and not rutting. "You made me stubborn. How else the hell was I supposed to get your fucking attention!? Being the eager new agent to learn worked at first. But then the team got bigger. So, the idiotic jester worked. Because a Gibbs-Slap at least meant you were paying attention. But even -that- stopped working! Did you even NOTICE when I stopped dating? Or, well, stopped screwing around? Did you notice when I started trying to take charge of --" And this would be the moment Gibbs finally acts.

He grabs Tony at the shoulders and pushes, at the same time rolling his hips. He doesn't dislodge the younger man, just rolls with him. Until Tony's pinned beneath him. His knees slide down, clamping against his hips. 

"Do you -really- think there is a single thing you have ever -done- that I didn't NOTICE, TONY!?" By the end he's screaming. He knows it, can hear his own voice reverberating around the room. He knows it's rude to scream in his friend's face, but he's pissed. He's .. he's primal and basic right now. Instinct has taken the place of logic. "Huh!? You think you made one change, no matter how fucking SMALL, and I didn't know it right away??" His thighs tighten, squeezing Tony's hips in his anger. 

"Uhnhhh!" Tony releases another surprised moan as the pressure on his hips sends electric pulses up and down his body. He knows he shouldn't be reacting this way, but no amount of silent demand stops his body. How could it? Jethro is on top of him, squeezing and wriggling and laying him bare like a live wire. 

"Damn it, Tony!" Familiar words. A curse used over and over, spoken in exasperation, amusement and chastisement. This isn't any of them. It is the rawest, truest tone of voice he's ever heard Gibbs use. The timbre is frayed and yet wrecked with need. The words quivered on short puffs of breath and they are both acting without thinking. Most of this encounter seems to be devoid of actual thought.

Tony's hands fly up, molding to the taut strain of Gibb's neck, yanking downward demandingly. At the same time, Gibbs' hands tighten in Tony's shirt, wrinkling and stretching the fabric as he seeks to pull the younger man up to him. In to him.

Their lips collide like they're both on a mission. Command and Conquer. 

Gibbs' lips slot perfectly against Tony's. Their mouths interlock and they both see stars. There is no tongue .. no biting of the lips, no push and press, just mouth molded to mouth and it's thrilling. The point of contact creates a burning ache in both of them. Their hips stutter, thrusting and gliding across each other until they are trembling with pent up energy.

They pull back, lips slightly swollen and red. Hands still gripping each other tightly as they try to get a grip on what has passed between them.

"Uhm.."

".. wow." Gibbs begins and Tony finishes. It is only after they have both spoken that the spell seems to be broken. As one, they pull apart, retreating to opposite ends of the bed as they try to catch their breath. "Yeah, uhm .. so, that just happened." After what feels like half an hour of hesitation, Tony can't take it any more. He groans in discomfort, shoves his hand into his pants and rearranges himself until he doesn't feel like he's going to split the seam on his pants. When he looks up and sees Gibbs watching the movement with open desire, he nearly jumps him. "You can -not- look at me like that right now, Jethro!" He actually whines. WHINES! Because the way Gibbs is looking at him is gorgeous and makes him uncomfortable, warm all over. It makes him -needy- and he doesn't like that feeling. Because being needy tends to take any chance of control right out of your hands, leaving you at the mercy and whim of your partner, and he's never been willing to give up control like that.

"Get your hand out of your pants and away from your fucking -dick-, and I'll stop looking at you like I'm two seconds from jumping you." He licks across his bottom lip, forcing himself to look away when Tony's eyes zero in on the motion and he lets out a strangled moan. Okay. This is -not- going how he thinks it should. "Stop that! We are both way to damn old to be rutting on a bed and probably coming in our pants like a couple'a teens, Tony." He points this out through gritted teeth. 

"You know, there's a hell of an easy fix for that, Jethro." He snorts, shifting a little until he's sitting up. "There's this really great process .. called TAKING YOUR PANTS OFF!" He injects as much playful whine as he can into the emblazoned words, falling back on his normal use of humor to try and lighten things up.

"Oh, for the love of --" Gibbs turns and launches himself at Tony again. This time, however, he smacks him with a pillow, growling and grunting as they playfully wrestle across the bed, taking the pillows after each other. By the time they are out of breath, they're laying head to toe, laughing. 

"Go out with me tonight?" The question pops out of Gibbs before he can contemplate what he wants to say, or if wants to say anything. However, this time, he doesn't try and take it back. Doesn't clam up, make excuses, or anything else. When he glances over and up and sees the quiet fear on Tony's features, he's shattered. He put that there. He made Tony fear what he could say or do and it wrenches his heart from his chest. He has screwed up. Badly. Again. How the hell could Tony -want- him, in -any- fashion!? If he keeps hurting him like this.

"Time and place, Jethro. Time and place." Tony answers quick, no hesitation, just honest need and desire in his voice. He wants to do this. Whatever this is going to be. "All the, uhm, grunting and grinding aside .. this isn't just physical. I want something -real-." If McGee or Ziva heard that, they would think that Tony was playing an angle. But this is Jethro. The person that knows him best.

"It already -is- something real, Tone. But I get it." He thinks for a moment. He hasn't had time to put anything together, of course. The request had been spur of the moment. "Gimme time, I'll call when I got it figured out." With that decided, they pull themselves together and exit the bed.

* * *


	3. From Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of my Tibbs Finale! 
> 
> I tried my best to incorporate some smut, but I'm not very good at writing such, I'm afraid! But, the smutty part is clearly marked for anyone that might want to skip it.

* * *

The first surprise of the night for Tony .. was the phone call he received at about 5. He knew that Gibbs would be calling, of course. He had to set up the time and place, after all. However ... the surprise was when Gibbs told him that he would pick him up at 6:30 -sharp-. Not 1830 but 6:30. It had Tony grinning from ear to ear like a mad man! Because he knows. It means that Jethro is making an attempt to make sure this is a date, no questions about it! 

In his heart of hearts, he hopes that this opening gesture sets the pace for the night. 

Damn! It also means he only has about an hour and fifteen minutes to get ready, then fifteen minutes to worry if he looks okay. And he totally forgot to ask if he needed to dress any specific way! 

"Smooth move, Tony." He howls pathetically as he rushes toward his bedroom. "How the -hell- does someone dress to go out on a date with Leroy Jethro Gibbs? Especially if they aren't a redhead -woman-!?" Okay. Okay, he can handle this. He can deal with it. He just has to swallow his fear and think. 

"Okay, Tony. The rules." He decides to try and centre himself. Beginning with the rules that apply tonight.

Rule #5; You don't waste good. The rule that brought Tony to DC in the first place. The rule that started this beautiful, strange, awkward thing. But still, it applies tonight. You don't waste good and in this case, he thinks the Good is actually the two of them. They owe it to themselves and each other, to pursue this, because it could be something better than good; it could be -great-. Cliche, but true.

Rule #8; Never take anything for granted, sometimes also translated never assume. He and Gibbs have been awesome this past year. Homey and cozy with one another. It would be easy to assume that it means everything will go great without any effort. It would be easy to take their natural chemistry for granted. Can't do that.

"Hmm.." He walks from his bedroom to his bathroom, looking himself over in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all! Once he had managed to stop panicking over the fact that he's going on a date with Jethro, he had time to stop and remember; this is Jethro. With that idea in mind, he picked something comfortable but flattering. Because in the end, it wouldn't matter. He doesn't have to worry about embarrassing the older man if he's not dressed 'appropriately' for wherever they went. He also knows him well enough to know that they weren't likely to go to some posh, upscale, over the top place. So, comfort wins out!

"Mmm, he might not be able to keep his hands off me." He snickers happily at his reflection, running his fingers through his bangs momentarily. Okay, back to the rules.

Oh God. The RULES!! Because now he remembers .. the big one. The rule that will pretty much shatter anything that could happen before it even begins!!

Rule #12; Never date a co-worker. He knows that the agency has no such rule in place. He's flirted with and dated plenty of people through out NCIS over the years, to know that the rule is Gibbs' and Gibbs' alone. So then, why did -Gibbs- ask -him- out?? Surely, the man couldn't be so much of a bastard that he would ask him out, take him on a date, and then pretty much tell him it would never happen again because of his own rule, right?

Before he can let this thought burrow deep into his psyche and fester, where he will surely spend every single moment of the night trying to break it down, break it open and understand it, inevitably ruining the night .. he does the one thing he knows he needs to. He reaches back and Gibbs-Slaps himself. No more or less hard than Gibbs would have done so, if he had begun to ramble like a fool. Instantly, he snaps back to reality. He leaves the crowded, horror-filled confines of his own mind and lets the worry and fear go.

Because there is -always- Rule #14 Bend the line, don't break it. True, this doesn't necessarily apply to Gibbs' other rules, but Tony can bend the line without breaking it, in this situation. 

And the final rule. Now this one most would look at and wonder -why- Tony thinks it applies, how the DiNozzo mindset is incorporating it into the evening date with his Boss. 

Rule #27 There are two ways to follow someone; they never notice you, they notice -only- you. The latter is exactly why Tony is including this rule. Because Gibbs himself admitted that he noticed Tony all of the years Tony has followed at his Six. Which means he did half the job. Gibbs noticed him, but not -only- him. Time to change that.

He takes one last look in the mirror, grins, and turns to head out of his bathroom. He still has about 3 minutes to freak out before Jethro would arrive.

* * *

This is going to be a disaster. That's not just Gibbs' opinion, that's his famous Gut pinging him. Every thing about this, says that it will be a -disaster- and it will be all his fault! After all, he had opened his big mouth in the first place, said that he would get it all figured out, and then called Tony to tell him. So many times he could've backed out, shrugged it off, or even asked Tony if he could plan it to ensure that it was something the younger man would like. 

He can do this. He -will- do this. A Marine never backs down, no matter how ... nervous .. they are. Because even in this, he isn't scared. Not really. Because he has to believe that even if this goes wrong, if they discover that they aren't cut out to be anything but what they have always been, that they can go back to that. To every thing this last year has represented.

He glances down at his watch, head tilted as he runs a quick calculation of what time he needs to be to Tony's place to pick him up. It will be odd, going there, rather than his friend coming here. It is a break in routine, and that might be exactly what they need to get this started right. 

"Movie .. check." He begins to run through the bullet points in his mind. He had spent a whole hour going back and forth in his mind about what a date should constitute. In the last few years, most of his dates were pretty simple; grab some coffee, decide how far he wanted things to go, get to it. Easy, clean cut. Boring. Predictable. 

With the three exes, it had been pretty predictable as well. Meet, flirt in that quiet, dry way of his, hit a few restaurants, establish a pattern until he decided he liked them enough to keep them around. And then, after dozens of subtle and not so subtle hints, drop the question, get married ... retreat to the basement, argue, get divorced. He shudders at the memories, trying not to let his track record rear it's ugly head at the moment. 

"Dinner .." He pulls out the small scrap of paper from his pocket, nodding when he reads off the information he had written down. "Check." He stares at the paper until there should be a hole through it, his thumb absently tracing the words written there as he goes over the plan for the .. thousandth? .. time in his mind. 

"Stop. It." He grinds out to himself before he turns and heads out of his place. He will not psych himself out.

* * *

"I am not pacing. I am .. checking the distance of my living room .." Tony mutters to himself as he maneuvers around the room. He has made the circuit some five times thus far and is actually worried that he might make it to a full ten. If it goes far beyond that, he knows that he will pick up his cellphone and text Gibbs that he changed his mind. Not call, because one grunt, grumble, or growl from the older man and he'd be putty. Come to think of it, maybe that would be a good idea! He could hear Gibbs voice, reassure himself. Yes, he's liking this plan more and more!

He yanks his phone out and hits speed dial, hearing it ring. It only rings twice before it's cut off, and he blinks. Tries to ignore the sting of rejection he feels. After a moment, he shoves the cellphone angrily back into his pocket and starts to turn for his bedroom when he hears a knock at the door. He grouses to himself as he crosses to the door and yanks it open.

Gibbs offers up his patented half-smirk, waving his phone lightly, and Tony immediately feels like an idiot. 

"Told you what time I'd be here, Tony. Am even three minutes early." The amusement is not subtle or sly, it's overt and adorable and Tony knows that he's blushing redder than an over-ripe tomato, but he actually doesn't mind.

"Uh-huh, and how many speed limits did you break to manage that, Jethro?" he shoots back instantly, both of them grinning now. It feels comfortable, right. They don't have to come right out and say what they are getting ready to do, they just have to be at ease with one another. That has never been much of a problem for them. 

"You don't want to know." Gibbs assures, taking a step back suddenly to get a good look at Tony. The younger man is surprised to find that the appreciative gaze makes him blush again. It makes him feel warm and excited, rather than the sort of hurry up and get it over with feeling such things usually give him these days. 

Tony would be the first to admit that he's good looking. That fact has played a major role in his life and he doesn't see that changing any time soon. But, all of this self confidence means -nothing- when faced with Gibbs. Because this means something more than shaking his ass for a one night stand. More than flashing the DiNozzo smile and charming his way into someone's bed.

So, he holds his breath as Gibbs studies him. takes in the off white slacks, stark white v-neck dress shirt and the grey and brown checked knit sweater. He has to resist the urge to reach up and try to feather his bangs a bit, or something. 

While he manages to keep his hands at his sides, he uses the time to give Gibbs the same once over. Not bothering to disguise it as he usually would.

Comfortable off grey pants, a medium colored shirt, with a black knit hooded sweater on top. His first thought? He really wants to steal that sweater by the end of the night. Second thought? Is there -anything- Gibbs wears that doesn't make him look sexy as hell?

"Clothes make the man, Tony." Gibbs teases, grinning up at the taller man. Tony jumps in surprise and his blush thickens.

"Did I .. say something out loud?" He questions carefully, trying not to give anything away. Gibbs gives a playful chuckle, shaking his head slowly.

"Nope. Just know you, Tony. Ready?" Tony glances over his shoulder, instinctively taking a last moment look before he steps out the door. A quick pat to his pocket and he knows he has everything, so he closes and locks the door, before turning around to face his date. And -WOW- is that still taking some getting used to.

"Ready, Jethro." He beams happily, reaching out, again on instinct, to take hold of the older man's hand. "So, where we headed?" Gibbs chuckles, lifting Tony's hand long enough to gently thump the back of it, rather than Gibbs-Slap his date.

"Just have to wait and see." 

"Ohh, mysterious Gibbs. Kinda like this side of you." Gibbs rolls his eyes and shakes his head mirthfully, but doesn't rise to the bait. After all, years of working with his friend has allowed him to develop a few tricks to bypass some of Tony's silliness. Not all of it, because sometimes he really likes it, -needs- it. 

"You like all sides of me, Tony." Okay, apparently, his defenses aren't as good as he thought they were, since he rose to the bait after all. He can feel Tony's eyes raking across his form and it's his turn to blush. Ever so slightly. So slight, in fact, that Tony doesn't see it happen. But then, it might also be because he's too busy watching the way Gibbs moves.

"Can't argue with that fact, Jethro." 

"Stop staring at my ass." He drawls out, smirking when Tony jumps and immediately looks away. Wearing his cheesiest grin!

"Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Kinda flattered." He can feel the almost penetrating gaze Tony throws at him, and it takes a moment for him to realize why; he hadn't quoted Rule #6 at him. Isn't going to, either. He glances sidelong at him, still smirking. "Relax, Tony. Rules don't much matter tonight." He gives the hand he holds a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go. 

"Oh, is that so? I might have to rethink a few things ..." He ducks his head quickly, making sure that the older man doesn't have access for a slap, grinning, because he thinks he's outsmarted him. As if. The sudden smack to his backside causes him to jump and yelp, his hands flying back to cover the targeted area in case another slap came.

"Did you just --??"

"Yup. Now come on." 

The car ride is quiet, but not strained. Neither of them feel the need to fill the silence, which is not unusual for Gibbs, and though most would expect it to be highly unusual for DiNozzo, the older man knows better. The mask has slipped, the real Tony settled in for the night. The Tony he has seen almost every day for a year now.

And just as they have for the past year, they steal covert glances at each other. They smile and listen to the sounds of the outside world passing them by. Gibbs even drives normally, and Tony manages not to make any jokes or playful observations. They revel in the simple state of being comfortable with one another.

"Still not telling me?"

"Nope." Despite the negative answer, Tony still grins. He resists the desire to slide closer to the older man and do something silly, like lay his head on his shoulder or touch him or something. The knowledge that he -can- now, is actually kind of dangerous. Because now he wants to. All the time. 

"Jethro!" Tony whines mockingly, before grinning. "Do you have any idea how cruel it is to deny someone of my insatiable curiosity??" He heaves a big, dramatic sigh and grins happily when it draws a laugh from the other man.

"Second B, Tony. Remember?"

"I do remember it being mentioned a time or two, Jethro. But we both know it's mostly bullshit." Gibbs tries to glare at his friend, but he can't hold it for long. He breaks out into a grin, shaking his head.

"Either way, you'll just have to be patient."

* * *

"Oh, wow. I mean .. wow. vino dell'amore ... you actually remembered that??" The unabashed happiness and pleasure at the fact that Jethro remembered something he said practically lights the man up! His eyes have softened and now hold a starlight sparkle to them. His lips have pursed in a perfectly kissable fashion. He is even shyly wringing his hands. Gibbs almost expects him to start scuffing his foot across the ground or something equally as adorable. 

"Told you, Tony ... I listen." He shrugs one of his shoulders lightly and heads for the door. He yanks it open, ushering a beaming Tony in before following after him. There's a small line swarming a podium, clambering to place reservations, trying to grease the palms of the host to get a table before anyone else. Gibbs looks around for a moment, grabbing Tony's arm, and leads him through the small throng, reaching the podium.

"Ian." He calls out to the host, who's head snaps up immediately. A broad smile softens the man's features and he reaches out to shake Gibbs' hand.

"Hello, Gunny. Right on time! Your table is re..a..dy.. Tony!?" The man jumps slightly when he looks over and sees none other than Tony DiNozzo standing next to Gibbs. Tony's eyes have widened slightly and Gibbs doesn't fail to realize that he has plastered on his prettiest fake smile.

"Oh, hey, Ian. I didn't realize you worked here. It's, uh .. it's nice to see you again." Ian stares at Tony for a long time, his eyes narrowed slightly, his hands clutching two menus. 

"Hmm. Is it? You left so quickly, I just assumed it hadn't gone that well." The words are acerbic and wounded and Tony begins to deflate where he stands. Yeah, the last thing he wants is Gibbs seeing this. He clears his throat, gently pulling his arm from the older man's so that he can step closer to the man behind the podium. He drops his voice, hoping that Ian will be the only one that hears him.

"Yeah, I left quick.. can you blame me? You just got done telling me that I was a cute piece of ass with no potential for more. Sorry for being a little upset. You don't get to play the wounded party here." He turns then, reaching for Gibbs' hand, feeling the fingers interlock with his instantly. Silent support from the one who is always there for him. "Come on, Jethro. We can go somewhere else." He isn't running, he's trying to save Jethro the embarrassment of being caught in the middle of something that is all his own fault. 

"No, Tony." Gibbs speaks softly, gently. He will not let whatever past these two have, chase them off from the place. He turns toward Ian, standing to his full height. "Don't know what's going on, don't care. It's in the past, Tone. Ian, our table, please." When the man doesn't answer right away, Gibbs leans over the podium. Pinning him with that intense ice-blue gaze. "Is there going to be a problem?" He drawls out slowly. Were they in interrogation or working with a suspect, Tony would've called the tone threatening, but he's just not sure right now.

"No problem. Sorry, Gunny. Right this way." He notes the section they would be headed to and has them follow him. They weave in and out of different sections, still clinging to each other's hand though they remain silent as they follow. They are lead to a small, intimate table toward the back, where they can each see the majority of the restaurant. Old habits and all of that. 

"Your server will be with you shortly." Ian's tone is falsely cordial, but clipped as he sets the two menus down and moves away as quickly as possible. Tony and Gibbs exchange hooded glances that they can read with little trouble before they settle.

"You don't have to try and explain, Tony. Don't care about him, or what he thinks. Care about you." Gibbs grabs up the menu, flipping it open casually, though Tony can read the line of tension in the older man.

"Good. Because he was an asshole and I don't want to talk about it." He shrugs his shoulders for some vague reason he can't even pinpoint before he returns to the task at hand. He grabs the menu but doesn't flip it open. He reaches into his pocket and produces Gibbs' specs, holding them out to him with a grin. Gibbs half-smirks and shakes his head as he takes them, slipping them on.

"Thanks, Tony." He mumbles, fixing the menu with his patented stare. Tony understands immediately, trying so hard to hide his grin, but unable to do so. Because he knew, the moment they arrived, that it was going to be hard for Gibbs to find something he might actually want to eat at a place like this. It amuses Tony no end. And yeah, okay, so it's probably -not- good to want to watch your date squirm a little, but come on! He wouldn't be Tony DiNozzo if he didn't find a certain sense of pleasure in seeing the one-toned Leroy Jethro Gibbs plucked from his comfort zone, even when he knows the man is only doing it for him. 

"Welcome." Tony grins as he searches the menu, not bothering to look for himself, but doing what he knows he'd have to; find something his poor Gibbs will like.

"Ah, hell. Find something --"

"Already got it, Jethro." He yelps in surprise when Jethro's balled up napkin smacks him in the face and then falls to the table. "Oh, real mature there." He teases, grabbing the napkin and throwing it back, watching as the older man catches it with a grin and slips it into his lap.

"Hello, gentlemen. My name is Donna and I'll be your ..." The words trail off, and Tony tears his eyes from his menu long enough to look up and see why the older woman has stopped talking. She's pretty, more refined than one expects to see of a waitress, even in an upscale place. Perfectly pinned red hair, and Tony gets an ominous feeling in his stomach. Nope. No. This isn't happening. 

He actually has to force himself to look across the table at Jethro, and he's not at all surprised at what he sees. Half-smirk, eyes tight at the corners, lips slightly thinner than usual. Yup. It's another redheaded ex. Joy of not joys.

"Hello, Donna." Gibbs' voice is smooth, perfectly unreflective as it usually is. She looks between the two men, her eyes wide, her features slightly drawn. Tony quirks a brow, his mouth starts to open, something sarcastic, stupid, trivial, or persona Tony-esque ready to roll free until Jethro jerks his head subtly. Tony's mouth slips closed and he glances back down at the menu. "Donna." He prompts again, and she takes a sudden step back, turns around, and hurries out of the section. 

"Wow. 1 to 1." Tony chuckles, though it's slightly strained and Jethro nails him with a rather scathing look, though his eyes are soft with a trace of mirth. Even he isn't such a bastard that he doesn't see the odd amusement in the whole situation. "I figure about three minutes before a substitute server shows up." He offers up, looking up from the menu in the direction the woman retreated. 

Gibbs begins to speak, until he sees the wide eyed, unbelieving look on Tony's face. What the hell is happening now!? He follows his friend's gaze, his own eyes widening when he sees the redhead arguing with a second redhead and a rather cute blond with glasses. 

"Really, Tony!?" He barks out, huffing. Not so amusing anymore! "First Ian, now her?" 

"Another redhead, Jerthro? I need to get a dye job??" He snaps back mulishly, scowling as he lays the menu down. They both wince vaguely when they realize they are snapping at each other. 

"Sorry." They mirror each other's apology, smiling sheepishly at one another before they seem to turn as one. And as if the two redheads and the blond aren't bad enough, Ian saunters over to the three. Both men can actually pinpoint the moment he realizes that the other three are exes of the two as well, because he seems to scoff and turn to stare at the two. And about half a minute later, you can see the moment that the three women realize the two men are there ... together. It's like something nuclear goes off in their expressions and both men jump up at the same moment.

"Abort." They grunt as one. Gibbs reaches for DiNozzo's hand, their fingers linking desperately before they turn and jog from the restaurant. Neither of them stop moving until they are to the car, where they separate hands and practically dive into their seats. Once the doors are locked and the car started, they take one look at each other .. and then dissolve into laughter. Well, Tony laughs boisterously, head thrown back, hands gripping at his stomach. Gibbs chuckles expressively, his hands resting on the steering wheel.

"Well, that didn't exactly pan out. Sorry, Tony." He offers an almost sheepish smile, surprised when Tony leans over and lays his cheek on his shoulder for a moment.

"Don't be, Jethro. It happens. As cliche and cheesy as it sounds .. it really is the thought that counts. You actually got a reservation at one of the hottest places in town, that I've been wanting to try for six months, when you knew there wasn't going to be much of anything you would actually like. It's the sweetest thing ever, Jethro." Tony gently nuzzles his cheek against the other man's shoulder before he pulls back, sitting up straight.

Gibbs turns to look away as soon as he can, hiding the shy smile before he glances down at his watch.

"Hope the second part goes better." He sighs out, throwing the car into drive and taking off. Tony has that big dopey smile in place, hazel green eyes sparkling with mirth. 

"Oh, there's more? Can't wait!"

* * *

Tony is a natural investigator, a fact Gibbs noticed the moment they met in Baltimore. He has never questioned Tony's talents and abilities, so he's not that surprised when Tony figures out the second part of the date with such ease. 

"No way, Jethro!!" The younger man actually bounces a few times, making Gibbs smile uncontrollably. 

"Yes way, Tony." He mocks goodnaturedly, making Tony roll his eyes at him, but doing nothing to shatter the shining smile across his handsome features. "We were gonna hit the later showing, but since supper didn't pan out .. figured why not." Gibbs steers the car into a parking spot and they both slip out. Tony steps around the car to join his friend, his grin growing wider. More infectious.

They are facing a park not too far from Gibbs' place. It's nestled between two buildings, one behind, one in front, the left and right sides open. People are already spread out on blankets, the smell of popcorn, soda, and different things making Tony's poor stomach gurgle pathetically. Which makes Gibbs smirk before he turns to yank open the trunk of the car. He lifts a finger, wriggling it to draw the younger man closer. 

Once Tony is in front of him, he reaches up to carefully pull the man's sweater off, Tony looking confused. Gibbs folds it and settles it in the trunk, pulling his own knitted hoodie off. He patiently motions for Tony to put it on as he grabs a blanket and shuts the trunk.

"Reading minds again?" Tony settles the hoodie in place, and without even realizing the action, lifts the edge of the hood and breathes in the scent on it. Pure Gibbs. It smells .. homey, well worn, musky. Perfect. Gibbs turns in just enough time to spot the action and he feels his stomach drop out. Feels a kiss of goosebumps across his arms and he quickly drops his gaze. It feels almost like walking in on someone's personal moment, even though it involves him by proxy. He inhales deeply, calming himself. For a single moment, he thinks about opening the trunk and getting Tony's sweater out for himself, but shrugs the desire off for now. There'd be time for that later.

"Nope." He answers, nodding toward the park. Together, they take off, Gibbs carrying an old blanket, Tony wrapped comfortably in the hoodie. They are not touching, but there isn't any reason to be. Because they are walking in sync, they are standing just inside each other's personal space, they are together without touching, as they usually are.

"Tony." He holds the blanket out to the younger man, who takes it easily in hand and immediately heads toward the back building. Gibbs takes a moment to bask in pride. He and Tony think so much alike, it still spooks him a little, but it always fills him with pride as well. He turns and heads toward some vendors, yanking his wallet out. 

Tony spreads the blanket out, making sure that it's folded enough they have padding, but large enough they could both occupy it comfortably. After a moment, he pulls the hood up, settling it so that it covers the crown of his head but leaves his face open. He flops onto the blanket, starts to lean back against the building but thinks twice about it. He didn't want to muck up the borrowed hoodie, after all. 

"Here." Gibbs materializes beside him, holding out a cardboard tray that Tony scrambles to grab. His features light up for what feels like the hundredth time as he glances all the different treats. Buttery kettle corn, nachos, and warm chocolate chip cookies, with two drinks. 

"I'm starting to feel spoiled." Tony quips as he sets the tray down, feeling Gibbs settle next to him. "I--" When his mouth opens, he finds a cookie shoved into it, causing him to sputter before he takes a bite of it.

"Make me blush, Tony, and I'll swat you again." He reaches out to grab a handful of popcorn, tossing the kernels into his mouth. When he glances over, he quirks a brow. Because Tony's eyes look slightly glassy, glazed over for some reason. "Tony." The glassy eyed, far away stare remains, and Gibbs reaches out to touch his arm. "Tony .... DiNozzo!" 

"Sorry, Boss!" The instinctual answer is out in seconds as he snaps back to the present. Though, it's him blushing now. Blushing and pulling the hood to try and hide the fact. Which is futile. Because of course, Gibbs' keen, perceptive eye takes in every detail needed before the hood is in place. However, it takes him a few minutes of trying to reason it out, before he understands. His eyes widen a fraction, his mouth falls open enough for him to take in a shaky breath.

"You .. you were thinking .. about me smackin' your ass, weren't you, Tony?" He stumbles across the words slightly and flinches, not used to having trouble speaking. One of the reasons he doesn't talk that much. Don't have to worry about not having the words, or messing up, if you don't speak. 

The younger man looks like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes are wide, though Gibbs can only see the bottom half of them because of how the hood sits. He reaches up, acting without thought, fingers brushing the hood up enough that he can see all of his handsome, blushing features. Can't concentrate on the blush, though. Instead, he's focused on a smear of chocolate at the corner of Tony's mouth. 

"I, uhm .. yeah, not gonna lie to ya, I really, -really- was, Jethro." The blush darkens a little, but Gibbs still isn't paying attention to his friend's cheeks. He's watching the way his full lips form each word. The way the chocolate glistens in the lamplight of the little park. When he reaches the point he simply can't stand it anymore, he reaches up. The edge of his thumb slowly drags along the silken curve of Tony's bottom lip, wiping the chocolate away. He shivers when his lips purse, practically kissing his thumb as he pulls back.

"Nice thought, was it?" The words are low, throaty and husky, his hand slowly falling away. Tony swallows so heavily that his Adam's apple quivers and bobs. His tongue flashes out, slowly skating across his lip, tasting the remnants of Gibbs' touch. 

"Uhh ..." The sound is lame, dumb, but he can't even begin to form words. Because he can still feel Gibbs' thumb there and he has flashes of nibbling and nuzzling the digit and he really doesn't need thoughts like that with Gibbs so close because soon, his desire would be obvious. He shifts away from the older man, reaching down to grab one of the drinks and suck down a good portion of it before he glances toward the opposite building. 

"It's about to start." Gibbs points out hoarsely, turning so that his back is against the building again. He unfurls his legs and jumps in shock when Tony's head hits his lap. Just as it always did at home. That ball of warmth returns, settling deep inside of him, and he allows his head to fall back against the wall as his hand slips down. Fingers toy absently with the material of the hoodie, plucking it lightly. Every few moments, his fingers card through Tony's bangs, switching between the two calming, soothing actions.

He reaches out to snag one of the drinks, taking a disinterested sip in it as he watches the side of the building opposite them light up. Oohhs and ahhs echo through the area as people settle in to watch the movie. 

"Oh wow, The Godfather!" Tony's cheek nuzzles tenderly against Gibbs' thigh, the older man grinning cutely as he gently runs his fingers down his date's cheek.

"Thought you might like that."

"Love it, Jethro. Thank you." The words are so soft he nearly misses them, though he surely feels the press of lips against his thigh before Tony's cheek returns there.

" 'm glad, Tone." He murmurs, so as not to interrupt the film. The only acknowledgement he gets is another gentle nuzzle of Tony's cheek against his thigh. His hand works it's way up, under the edge of Tony's shirt. Fingers dance adoringly along the small of Tony's back. Even with the opening scene of The Godfather playing, Gibbs is able to hear the content purr coming from the younger man. 

The time passes in this same vein; Gibbs finding whatever bit of warm skin he can idly caress, Tony torn between watching the movie he loves so much and basking in the older man's touch. Not surprising, Gibbs doesn't really pay any attention to the movie itself. when he's not focused solely on touching Tony or listening to his sweet sounds of contentment, he is listening to the chatter of the others around them. The couples, families and groups of friends that exist in every state of being. Or so it seems. Some are so absorbed in the movie that a car could explode down the block and they might hear it. Some exist in the same state he and his friend do, watching and interacting with one another. 

He snorts with near bitter amusement when he glances over and catches one group of five teenagers that have their noses buried in thier phones. See, -those- are the ones that really miff him. The ones that come to an entertainment event, and not only ignore it, but seem to forget they are with anyone .. those are the ones that make his blood boil without reason. Why should he care what a bunch of strangers are doing?

"They're annoying, aren't they?" Gibbs glances down, thinking to see Tony looking in the same direction he is, but isn't really that shocked to see that he's still staring at the movie playing on the side of the building ahead of them. "It's ridiculous enough coming to something like this just to spend all night messing with their phones, but more than likely, they're all texting each other when they're no less than three feet away." Gibbs' makes that face of his. That 'are you serious' twist of his head at an odd angle, brow raised, lips slightly compressed. Almost as if he's trying to hold some scathing remark in, rather than let it free as he usually would. "You -really- want to walk over and Gibbs-Slap each and every one of them, don't you, Jethro?" Tony's smirk can't be seen of course, with the hood obscuring a good portion of his face, but it doesn't need to be. His tone advertises the action perfectly. 

"About as much as you want to, Tony." He doesn't bother teasing, lying, or sugar coating it. He just answers deadpan and truthful, his hand still moments before sliding free of Tony's shirt. The answer is such a deep, surprisingly sad little whine that Gibbs goes completely still. Thrown for a loop by the sound, the possible reason for it. "But thankfully, we both have better control than that." He lifts his hand close enough to be able to see the face of his watch, quickly running a calculation. They were only about 23 minutes into the film. He's really not expecting not to care. That is to say, he doesn't mind that there's still two hours and forty-three minutes before it ends. Because that's over two hours of touching, caressing, and generally being with Tony. He doesn't have to watch the movie, doesn't have to even remember that there's one playing. He can just relax and enjoy himself.

For exactly 3.45 minutes. Because that's when the second complication rears it's ugly head.

Gibbs has just subtly shifted, moving enough to get a little bit comfortable but not enough to risk dislodging Tony from his lap. He tilts his head toward the sky, surprised that he can actually feel at ease in such a public setting without knowing everything going on about him. He's not looking for anyone or anything suspicious, not cataloging the people close to him. Just breathing, resting, and relaxing with the younger man. 

The first few drops go unheeded. Subconsciously, he knows something has happened. Knows that something is out of place and it's about to get worse. But damn it! He is comfortable, happy. He manages to delude himself into believing that it will pass them over. That what he feels is a few stray drops of a cool night. Pre-dew or something of that nature.

4 ... he feels Tony slowly shifting until he's laying on his back. 3 ... the hoodie has fallen a little, leaving his features bare to the sky above them. 2 ... the younger man actually grins as he looks up, the coziness of the entire scene making him feel all melty and warm. 1 ... Tony reaches up, the back of his hand lightly trailing the curve of Gibbs' jaw. The older man's ice blue eyes shutter as he leans closer into the petting caress that makes him shiver. Nothing overt, just a little quaking of his frame as the warmth of that tender touch sends his heart to racing. 0 ... Gibbs begins to lean down, suddenly seized by the desire to press a kiss to the perfectly smiling lips. He barely manages to begin moving when the bottom falls out of the sky. No heads up, no warning. Because of the light from the movie, the lamps around the park area, no one had seen the clouds roll in.

It takes less than a minute for shrieks and colorful language to create a cacophonous veil of protest about the park. Because it takes less than a minute of the torrential downpour for every one there to be soaked through to the bone by the driven, cold rain. 

Tony and Jethro part lightening fast. They take to their feet instantly, Tony grabbing the ruined food and tossing it into the nearest bin as as Gibbs grabs the blanket and folds it over his arm. He snags his friend's hand once they're within range, the two of them running toward the car. 

Once they are settled on the seats, -again-, they take one look at one another, again. Jethro's borrowed hoodie is so saturated with water that it sags all over, showing off patches of wet throat, chest, even shoulder. Gibbs is trying -really- hard not to stare at the glistening shoulder. Not to mention the white shirt that is now pretty much see through. Gibbs feels like a drowned rat, not realizing that the water has had similar effects on him. His hair is plastered to his forehead, water droplets clinging to his lips in tantalizing ways. 

The two stare at each other for an endless moment, eyes tracking water droplets that cascade across their faces. 

"Damn it .. I just gotta ..." Tony groans the words breathlessly a moment before he lunges for Gibbs. Finger tips scrape along the nape of his neck, fingering wet strands of hair. His other cups the man's slender cheek, turning Gibbs' head until their lips slot together in a desperate kiss. They are pressed together only seconds before Tony's tongue slips from his mouth, dragging a hot trail across Gibbs' bottom lip. Tasting the fresh rain mixed with remnants of the drink he had drank early.

Their breath meets in soft, sensual moans of approval as they kiss. Gibbs' hands, unable to stay idle, reach out. Finger tips drag desperately across the curve of Tony's exposed shoulder, forcing the soggy cloth further from the curved swell. In moments, their mouths part, each drinking in much needed air. 

Gibbs does not waste time when he has his mind set on a much bigger, better prize. With a little pressure, fingers tightening in Tony's clothing, he coaxes him closer. Shaking fingers push the material of the hoodie and shirt away, until warm lips can press a kiss to the curve of his shoulder. Tony shudders, hands desperately grabbing at Gibbs' sides. Struggling to cling to the older man when all he wants to do is melt away into a puddle of goo or something. Teeth thread silken, wet skin and a deep, throaty moan is ripped from Tony's lips. Gibbs nibbles and bites, the skin beneath his lips darkening, bursts of red coloring his flesh. 

"J-Jethro!" The name is a song of praise, Tony pushing closer to the older man, wanting more. So much more, but his friend's words filter back into the functioning part of his brain. "S-stop. Remember .. not wanting to ... seem like teenagers?" He barely manages to get the words out, his hands migrating to Gibbs' chest to push him away. He's met with a look stuck between desire, logic, and annoyance, and it makes him chuckle. Deep and velvety. The sound makes Gibbs tremble, his hands wrenching off Tony's body. He forces himself to turn. Forces himself to grip the steering wheel rather than reach for his date again.

"R-Right. Home, then." His tone is guttural, lusty, and Tony has a single second to regret his decision before they're taking off toward the house.

* * *

"Well, if nothing else, it was an interesting night, Jeth." Tony chuckles warmly as they exit the car, Gibbs making a frustrated face.

"Definitely wasn't what I had planned. Sorry it didn't work out that well." He mutters, nose wrinkling faintly in distaste. Sure, he had had fun even with everything going wrong, but he wishes it had worked out how he planned. Their fist date should've been perfect.

"What are you sorry for, Jeth? It was great. I mean, come on! You were prepared to sit through a meal and a movie that you wouldn't have cared much for, just to make me happy." Tony's voice is full of awe and wonderment. Never had anyone been so willing to endure so much, just to give him a great date. Once they are in the house, Tony closes the door, then promptly pushes Gibbs against it. His hands push against the wood, on either side of the older man's body, until he's caging him in.

"I love you, Jethro Gibbs, and that's all that matters." He leans forward then, kissing him deeply. Trying to communicate all the love and desire he harbors for the man, in that single action. 

Tony yelps in surprise, the kiss breaking when he feels Jethro's body surge against his own, forcing its way up, off the wood.

"I love you too, Tone."

**_(If anyone doesn't want to read the Smut, then skip this section!)_ **

Gibbs grabs Tony by the shoulders, pushing him backward until his knees connect with the couch, causing him to fall onto it. He grins down at him and then carefully folds himself onto Tony's lap. They both hiss and groan as their groins slide across each other, friction causing heat to roil through them.

In a frenzy, they begin to shuck their clothing. Hands, eager to be everywhere, pull at wet, cold clothing. Gibbs' pushes the hoodie off Tony's shoulders, grabbing it and tossing it onto the coffee table. Tony grabs the hem of Gibbs' shirt, sliding it up, off him and tossing it to the same spot. Gibbs shivers, the cooler air of the house causing goosebumps across him.

After a moment, he manages to wrestle the clinging material of his own shirt off, leaving them both bare chested. Gibbs slowly grinds his groin against Tony's, eliciting a surprisingly feral growl from the younger man. With a yelp, Gibbs finds himself on his back, stretched across the couch, looking up at a wild eyed Tony.

Their bodies connect, hip to hip, arms wrapped around each other as their lips collide. Tony's tongue plunges into Gibbs' mouth, plundering the hot depths eagerly. Tongues fight and fence, wet surface curling and thrusting against each other as thier bodies slide and thrust together. 

"Fuck!" Tony growls into the older man's mouth when he feels so hard that it almost hurts. Friction. He needs friction and flesh. Touch! Before he can translate need to action, Gibbs is already reaching, anticipating his need. His hand deftly slips between cloth and flesh. Fingers drag down the trail of hair, teasing across the patch slowly before he can take Tony in hand. Calloused fingers grip Tony's hard on at the base, the younger man moaning and grunting loudly. His hips jerk and shudder at the contact, his eyes snapping closed for a moment. A string of curses escape him, too garbled and breathless to really be made out.

"Stay with me, Tone." Gibbs' doesn't try to curb the cheeky comment, chuckling smoothly when Tony reaches out to smack the back of his head. But it has the desired effect. Tony releases a shaky breath, his hands sliding down Gibbs' sides. Stroking the warm skin until they have slipped between hip and underwear. Carefully, he works the material down as far as it will go, the base of Gibbs' cock coming into view. However, with the older man pinned, the material can't be moved further yet.

"Don't worry, Jethro. Not missing this." He smirks down at him before carefully pulling himself free of Gibbs' hand. He lowers his body down Gibbs', before lowering himself over his groin. The silver fox's breath leaves in a single, hissed gasp when the tip of Tony's tongue drags down the exposed expanse of flesh. His hands fall flat palmed against the couch, hips lifting enough that Tony can snag his pants and underwear and wrestle them down to his feet. Oops, he'd totally forgotten about shoes. But yeah, he's too far gone to care about getting those damn things off. 

He lifts a hand, his tongue slithering up his palm, slicking it before he wraps his palm around Gibbs' cock. The older man makes a mewling moan sound that almost short circuits Tony's brain. "God, sounds like that ... won't last long, Jethro." He warns through gritting teeth, his mouth compressing into a tight line for a moment. Only one, though, before his tongue slips out to moisten his lips. Until they glisten, shiny and wet, and Gibbs makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

"P-Please, Tone." He begs in subdued, needy tones and Tony whimpers deeply. Who had ever needed him -that- much!? He leans down, mouth opening, lips parting before wrapping around the slick head of Gibbs' cock. The taste of salty precum wrenches another moan from Tony, his lips pressing against the throbbing flesh. Sucking even as his tongue flicks across him, Gibbs squirming. "Fuck .. Tony!" He snarls the name, his eyes closed tight enough that he feels almost dizzy. 

Tony smirks around his mouth full, his own eyes closing as he begins to draw Gibbs' cock deeper and deeper into his mouth. His next moan sends Gibbs into a soft wail of pleasure at the shock-waves it causes through him. His hands pry themselves free of the couch, moving instead to thrust his fingers through the short, spiky strands of the younger man's hair. Tugging and yanking at them as gently as he can. The silken feel of them threading across his hands calms him enough that he doesn't lose it right then and there.

Especially when he feels Tony deepthroating him. Feels the velvety press of warm cheeks molding against his cock, causing it to ache. His hips try to rise, but he forces them to still, afraid to hurt his lover if he lets go and starts to ride his mouth like he wants to. Really, -REALLY- wants to.

"Always knew that mouth was gonna be good, Tone." He points out huskily. And Tony finally pulls up, off of him, so that he can out and out laugh.

"Been thinking about it, have you, Jethro? Guess with how much I talk, couldn't help but picture me sucking your cock." He purrs the words sucking and cock at the same moment his hand wraps around Gibbs' shaft and begins to thrust up and down it. Palm gliding slowly over the veined flesh, feeling the older man's hips pumping upward, in time with the thrusting of his hand. Riding his palm. "What else you been thinking about, **_Boss_**?" He emphasizes the word Boss, and is rewarded with a feel of more precum dribbling down, across his hand as Gibbs shudders and whimpers at the sound. Actually whimpers. "Figured you'd like being called that."

"Damn it, Tony." He whines in the back of his throat, squirming on the couch. He hadn't expected Tony to know him -this- well. To be able to play him like a fucking instrument with a few well placed words and touches. God, he wants to beg for so much. Wants to throw the man over the coffee table and fuck him, but he's enjoying the touching too much. 

"Something wrong, Jethro?" The younger man drawls out slowly, his hand squeezing his shaft before pumping down again, feeling Gibbs lifting his hips to meet him. Thrusting upward, another lustful wail, cursing under his breath. Trying to will Tony to do -more-. Give him more!

"Damn it, Tony! Torture .. need more ... -please-!" He actually yelps the word please, and Tony is there in a second. His mouth wraps around the head of Gibbs' cock, sucking and bathing his tongue across the sensitive flesh. A line of gibberish is babbled from the older man as he falls back against the couch. Tony sucks and licks at him, his hand pumping up his shaft to meet his mouth, and Gibbs can feel himself tightening all over. Can feel the overwhelming heat dribbling like wax through his veins. The tingling in the pit of his stomach, and he lets out another wail when he can't hold back. His entire body goes rigid moments before he begins to empty into Tony's mouth. 

The younger man moans, swallowing the thick, salty ropes before he pulls up to suck in a shuddering breath. While he's otherwise distracted, Gibbs grabs him at the hips and turns, moving until their positions are reversed. Until he's straddling Tony carefully.

"My turn." He smirks before he pulls the rest of Tony's clothing off, leaving them both fully nude, finally. He leans down, trailing scorching kisses down Tony's body. Licking and nibbling along the curve of his stomach until he can take Tony in his mouth. No pretense, no easing him into it after every thing that Tony had done to him. He swallows him hold, throat convulsing to work the throbbing cock head, Tony's turn to wail lustily as he grips at the couch.

"Fuuuck! Yes! Yes!" He whimpers and moans, his hips shifting desperately as Gibbs begins to suck his cock. Thrusting his sunken cheeks in a quick, merciless bob, working every inch of his dick. Tony wriggles and writhes, panting loud, aching breaths as he begins to move his hips in time with Gibbs' lips. Fucking his perfect mouth, needy and wanton. "God, Jethro...oh god... fuck!" He snarls the words, his hands lifting to cover his mouth, pushing against his own lips to try and stifle some of the babbling words and sounds escaping him. 

Gibbs pulls up and off his cock with a soft POP of his lips, which are a little swollen from his actions. He licks across them, before he licks his palm and takes Tony in hand.

"Damn, the sounds you make, Tone. Gonna get me hard again if you're not careful." He chuckles warmly as he begins to pump his hand up and down his lover's length. Tony pushes his hands tighter against his mouth, and Jethro actually snarls at him. Causing him to yank his hands away in surprise. "I -want- to hear you. No covering your mouth, Tony." The words are a command, and it's obvious that Tony knows it because his hands fly back to the couch. Getting as far away from his mouth as they can so that he doesn't accidentally disobey.

"Jethro .. please .. please ... need to ... GOD!" His voice rises and rises the more his lover works his cock. The sudden thrust of a thumb over the swollen head sends a cascade of precum down, over Jethro's hand and they both squirm against one another. Jethro leans down, lips finding the shoulder he had kissed and sucked earlier. His fingers tighten around Tony's cock, palming him quicker, both bodies shuddering as he does. 

"G-gonna .. fuck, Jethro, I'm gonna!" He yelps as his hips shudder and stutter, jerking as he begins to come, rope after rope painting both of their stomachs, slicking Gibbs' hand further. The older man snarls, lunging forward to bite at the curve of Tony's shoulder. The younger man cries out, another rope of come shooting from his cock at the feel of Gibbs marking his flesh. He squints to the side, able to see the red, flushed hickey on his shoulder. His stomach drops out a bit at that, cheeks filling with a blush as Gibbs grabs one of the wet shirts and quickly cleans them both off.

_**End of Smut** _

"Good .. God .. that was .." Tony pants the words out, feeling Gibbs settling next to him on the couch, until they are able to curl up against each other. Gibbs reaches along the back of the couch, grabbing a blanket to pull down and drape it across them.

"Hmm, yeah, it was, Tone." He murmurs sleepily, nuzzling against his shoulder as his eyes flutter closed.

"Next time you wanna go on a date, Gibbs, teach me woodwork in the basement, mkay?" Gibbs snickers at the though, shaking his head in mild amusement before kissing Tony's temple.

"Alright." He sighs softly as he begins to drop off to sleep. "Welcome home, Tone." Would be the last words Tony hears before they're both asleep.

* * *

  


FIN!!!!

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later down the road, I might write more for this version of Tibbs, but I'm not sure yet.
> 
> Thanks to everyone that stuck with this series, and for all the wonderful comments!!


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